Sunday, March 9, 2014

My friend's 40th birthday was last week. Yeah, we're that old. And, such is my life, the stars not only didn't align for me that night, but most of them supernova-d to ensure I wasn't able to attend at all cost. So, as I idled away my time at work on a train in the middle of the woods of Northern Arizona, I penned this hastily edited short about a boy and his birthday. I hope you enjoy it. It's just a fun little piece of filth.

Birthday Boy

by Guy Medley with artwork by Jim Boring

“Dammit!” Tom pushed END on his
cell phone and slammed it down hard on the table. “I can’t believe this shit,
man”.

He turned to Jim who was leaning
casually against the snack table. “Well, guess who isn’t able to come. I don’t
know why I bother with him sometimes. Says he has to work late or some
bullshit. Fuck!” Jim hunched his shoulders with cool indifference.

“What are you laughing about,
Cory?” Tom eyed Cory sitting on the couch between Sarah and Kate, his arms
casually slung around both of their shoulders. Always the lady’s man, that
Cory.

Tom sat in his big recliner and
fumed. Fucking Gus was always ruining his shit. And this was no ordinary shit.
No, this shit was his fortieth frickin birthday party. He had spent days
decorating his basement recreation room. Preparing a smorgasbord of snacks and
buying all the beer that everyone liked. Goddammit, this was his day. He and
Gus had been friends since childhood and he expected him to share in all of his
important life events, work be damned.

His friends in attendance gabbed it
up under the droning of the music. Not the tunes he would have chosen, but it
was the top forty crap that everyone seemed to enjoy, and he wanted his invited
guests to have a good time. Nobody was dancing to the music yet, but he
suspected they would be soon enough. In fact he was going to ask Jen to dance
after he had another beer or two. She sat in a clutch of friends near the big
ornate punch bowl he had bought special for the occasion, her golden hair
framing a face only an angel should possess.

Tom busied himself refreshing
everyone’s emptying beer bottles. When he made his way to Jim he leaned against
the table and looked out across the room filled with his closest friends.
“Sorry I got a little hot there, Jim. It’s just, well, he knew I was planning
this party for months. He knew.” He looked at Jim who was enjoying a plate full
of meats and cheese sweating under the warmth of the lights. Jim was quiet on
the subject. He knew Tom just needed to rant for a bit to get it out of his
system. They all missed having Gus there. He wasn’t the most lively of the
group, but he was a part of it and it was noticed when he was absent. “Well, to
hell with him then, huh. We’ll have a great time tonight, man”. He clapped Jim
on the shoulder and with a broad smile moved on.

Cory was still nestled between the
two girls on the couch, making eye contact with every part of his couch mates
except their eyes. “Don’t believe a word
this guy says, “ he said looking at both of the girls. “He’s full of more shit
than Congress.” He laughed as he replaced their beers and then walked away with
the roll of his eyes.

Tom finally made his move after the
latest round of beers had been served. He walked over to Jen and plopped down
in an empty chair right next to her. God she was beautiful. He was surprised
she was even here at his party. He swallowed his pride and what felt like a
bowling ball and finally asked her. “Jen, would you like to dance with me?”

They danced and danced and danced
some more. They danced until Tom was so exhausted he had to stop for a rest. He
saw Jen back to her seat where her friends waited with big smiles and curious
eyes, no doubt dying to know all.

The needed rest was the perfect
time to serve the cake, so serve it he did, dishing out pieces onto paper
plates and delivering them to his guests. He sat in his chair eating his own
piece, washing it down with a cold Sam Adams. “How’s that cake, Jim?” He looked
at his friend who now seemed conflicted between eating his cake or the still
sweating pile of meat and cheese that lay in front of him.

He looked over in Cory’s direction,
who now had cake covering the entire lower half of his face. Drunk bastard, Tom
thought.

@@@

Gus made his way up to the front
door and knocked. He could hear the music drifting up from the basement, making
the soft knock only a polite courtesy before he let himself in. Besides, he
wanted to surprise Tom by making a grand entrance. He had talked his way out of
working as late as he had told Tom he would be at the office.

He crept through the house, finding
his way to the door that lead down into Tom’s basement rec room. Down he went,
his smile and growing excitement escalating with each step down. He reached the
bottom and rounded the corner into the main room. Balloons emblazoned with big
numbered 40’s and OVER THE HILL hung from the ceiling and from strings tied to
tables and chairs and lights. Music blared top forty crap. Beer bottles lay
everywhere. At first glance it looked like a rocking party.

Then Gus saw all of his friends in
their respective places in the basement, and all that was wrong with them. Cory
was seated on a couch, his arms around the shoulders of Sarah and Kate. His
face smeared with the crumbling remains of what looked like chocolate cake and
blood. And his eyes, propped open with yellow and blue toothpicks, the kind
used to spear tiny sausages. Sarah and Kate’s eyes were also pried open in the
same manner, their once beautiful eyes now glazed over with a hazy white film.

Jim was propped up against a table
loaded with food, his skin the color of ash and a small trickle of blood
running from his left ear. His collar was stained a dark red and formed a long
V neck of crimson down the front of his polo shirt.

A group of girlfriends sat duct
taped to chairs set near the largest punch bowl Gus had ever seen, their
made-up eyes also propped open with colored hors d’oeuvre toothpicks. The punch
bowl glowed red under the lights, illuminating the darker objects floating
inside. Gus tried to tell himself they were orange or lemon slices, but the
light was too bright in that corner to convince himself that what he was seeing
floating ornately within the punch was anything other than tongues.

Then he saw Tom, gracefully
drifting across the open floor to the rhythm of the music. In his arms he held
Jen, her head rolled back onto her shoulders, bobbing
back and forth to the movement of the dance, her eyes propped open like the
other’s and a dark bruise line clear around her hemorrhaged neckline. As Tom
and Jen turned, the tip of her toes all that dragged across the floor, he came
to face in the direction of Gus. His face lit up with his big cheesy grin. He
dropped Jen, who sprawled lifeless on the floor and walked toward Gus.

“What the hell is going on here,
Tom?” He looked wide eyed at his friend.
“Shit man, what the fuck!”

Tom’s smile faltered but never
entirely disappeared. “I’m glad you could make it, man. Jim and I were just
talking about how much we missed you.” They both looked over at Jim, his food
still stationed in front of his ashen body.

Gus looked at his longtime friend.
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Got any cake left?”